


The Art of Being Oblivious, by Shintarou Midorima

by merik24



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Mild Fluff, OOCness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merik24/pseuds/merik24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Midorima wasn’t naturally oblivious, he would have probably notice the romantic atmosphere and the majority of young couples who sat close to each other and whispered in hushed voices. With that said, Midorima was very oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Being Oblivious, by Shintarou Midorima

**Author's Note:**

> Aka, what happens when I go to a yakiniku place for the first time and listen to Ed Sheeran on repeat. I wasn't planning on posting this, but my friend made me. 
> 
> This turned out differently than what I had planned in the end, but as always, I trailed off. Oh well. Enjoy cheesy, ~~badly written~~ midotaka.

“Okay, let’s call it a day.” The whistle blew. “Hit the showers and you’re dismissed!”

The coach’s words made a spin around the gym and returned to the basketball court where Shuutoku had finished yet another practice. The boys headed for the locker rooms, huffing in exhaustion and relief. By now, the sun had settled itself low on the horizon and its fading rays illuminated the bright green hair of the last player on the court.

Shuutoku’s Ace threw a three-pointer after three-pointer, grunting every now and then when the ball landed a millimeter imperfectly into the hoop. Sweat trickled down his forehead and he stopped for a second to wipe it off on his shirt.

“Oi, Shin-chan,” Shuutoku’s point guard yelled from across the hall. “Stop being obsessive and get your butt here.”

Midorima lowered the basketball, looking over to the philistine who had so carelessly interrupted his creation of art. Judging by his amused glare and his crossed arms, he could tell Takao had been standing there for a while.

“I’m trying to concentrate, Takao.” Another ‘flawed’ shot made it into the hoop, Midorima noticed with mild disgust. He put his hands on his knees and grunted.

He could hear Takao’s exasperation in his voice. “You shouldn’t overwork yourself, especially not now.”

Midorima adjusted his glasses. “Our game with Rakuzan will not be like any other. We need all the practice we can get. And in fact, I don’t feel tired.” His ragged breaths and pained expression, however, betrayed him.

Takao walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t play if you are injured.” His voice was serious and laced with concern, making Midorima put the ball down.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to yakiniku.” Takao’s eyes lit up instantly, any hint of seriousness gone, as he turned to leave, back to his usual carefree nature.

Midorima reluctantly followed suit. The rest of the team had already gone and Midorima enjoyed the comfortable silence as he took a quick shower. He pulled a hoodie over a clean shirt and made his way out of the gym, locking the door behind. Takao was already outside, waiting for him on the steps, as was his habit. His hair was damp and he smelled of grass and freshly laid-out laundry –his signature cologne. Midorima sometimes pretended to have forgotten his so he could ask to borrow Takao’s and linger on the smell of him for the rest of the day. Of course, he would never admit that to himself or, god forbid, to Takao.

The two of them made their way downtown, walking quietly, but not awkwardly so; on the contrary, it was soothing after a day of teachers droning on about historical dates and equations and the coach yelling orders.

“Gosh, I hope we didn’t miss their happy hour.” Takao said in despair as they reached the yakiniku place. He opened the door and motioned with his hand for Midorima to go on first, beaming in the process.

“Welcome,” A host smiled widely at them behind a counter. “For two?”

“Yes, please.” Takao returned the smile, making Midorima shrug.

The place was small, but cozy. It was dimly lit, with lamps and fairy lights providing most of the lighting. Leather booths lined the walls and there were candles and fake flowers on each table. If Midorima wasn’t naturally oblivious, he would have probably noticed that the atmosphere was quite romantic and that most of the customers consisted of young couples, sitting close to each other and whispering in hushed voices. With that said, Midorima was _very_ oblivious.

The host led them to a booth in one of the more secluded corners of the restaurant, to Midorima’s relief. She gave them the menus and left with a promise to come back with water.

Takao grabbed the menu, flipping through its worn-out pages with utmost precision and focus. He was especially giddy tonight, bouncing lightly on his seat and humming to himself. “What are you getting, Shin-chan?” He asked after going through the menu.

Midorima’s eyes scanned the specials’ page and he pointed to a lavish-looking sea food plate with veggies. “This one.”

Takao’s mouth gaped. “This? T-this is one of the most expensive ones.” He laughed nervously.

Midorima wasn’t the slightest bit bothered. “It’s okay, since you’re paying.” He said casually.

Takao’s eyebrow twitched. He looked dangerously close to popping a forehead vein. “You little –”

The waitress came with their waters then, asking for their orders. Takao ordered a simple pork plate and side dish of kimchi while Midorima went with his initial pick, to Takao’s silent horror. She thanked them, retrieving the menus and moving on to another booth.

Midorima fished out something from his bag: a fuzzy, orange scarf. Takao stifled a giggle.

“Lucky item?” He guessed. His tone wasn’t mocking, but rather kind and understanding.

“Mm.” Midorima nodded, weaving the scarf around his neck. The air conditioner above their heads and his still damp hair made him a bit chilly.

“It looks cute on you, Shin-chan.” Takao smiled genuinely, as if he had just adopted a puppy.

Midorima averted his gaze, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath. Why did Takao feel the need to say such _abominable_ things? He brushed it off with a shrug.

They lit up the little stove in the middle of the table and began putting some appetizer broccoli with cheese and mushrooms wrapped in foil. The smell of grilled cheese and veggies filled Midorima’s nostrils and his mouth started to water. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, apart from a small sandwich before their practice started.

“Thanks for the food!” Takao chanted as he popped a mushroom in his mouth straight from the stove.

Midorima followed suit, feeling the chewiness and seasoning of the broccoli. “This is good.” He said surprised.

Takao flashed brilliant white teeth, pride in his eyes. “I knew you would like it.” Takao had a keen sense for such things: where the best restaurants in town were, where to buy the highest quality sports shoes and gear, what cafés to go to when he and Midorima had finals coming up and needed a good dose of caffeine and outdoor inspiration to study.

“Wow, Shin-chan,” Midorima was snapped out of his thoughts. “You’re smiling so much.”

He hadn’t realized he was grinning like a mad fool. Feeling heat rise up to his face, Midorima readjusted his glasses in hope to hide his reddening cheeks. _Crap._

Takao had an expression on that matched his own, Midorima couldn’t guess as to why. Probably to tease him.

At that moment, a lady stopped by their table. She was perhaps in her late sixties, wore dark-rimmed glasses, and carried an assortment of different flowers in her hands. “A rose for the lady?” She spoke to neither of them in particular.

_Ha?_ Midorima gaped in confusion and bewilderment before a light bulb flashed in his head. _She’s blind._

“I’ll take a tulip, please.” Midorima’s ears registered Takao’s words before his mind could process them. The latter had a huge, dorky smile plastered on his face (which, by the looks of it, wouldn’t leave his stupid face for the rest of the night) as he reached into his wallet.

Midorima could only stare as the lady picked up a pink tulip –she could recognize the flowers by touch –and exchanged it with Takao for a rather large bill.

“Thank you, keep the change.” Takao insisted. The lady wished them good night and was gone.

“For you, Shin-chan.” Takao extended a hand, his mouth a strange lop-sided line and his eyes half-lidded.

Midorima retrieved the flower, his eyes wide. What had just happened?

“Why did you –” He couldn’t finish. If he wasn’t furiously blushing before, he was now.

Takao leaned back, a strangely warm look in his eyes. “You said you like tulips, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, I did.” It was true, but he didn’t think Takao would remember such a trivial fact. Midorima himself didn’t remember even telling Takao about it.

Confusion muddled Midorima’s thoughts as he tried to go over the evening thus far in his head. Takao was acting differently tonight, that was the only thing Midorima could tell for sure. He was uncharacteristically giddy, even for him, and spoke gently and in a low voice as if each word held a hidden meaning, and he had that different look in his eyes that Midorima couldn’t identify.

And maybe, if he wasn’t so oblivious, he would have noticed that elderly ladies selling flowers didn’t show up too often in regular dining places and just _maybe_ , he would have noticed the lyrics of the soft music that seeped in the background.

_We keep this love in a photograph_

_We make these memories for ourselves_

With that said, Midorima was painfully oblivious.

Soon thereafter their food arrived and Midorima was far too busy enjoying his fancy dish to worry about anything else, including having to say thank you or something equally gross about the flower accident. Yes, at least the universal forces were merciful in that regard, Midorima thought, glancing down at his scarf.

They mostly ate in silence after that, apart from the occasional comments on the food and tasting each other’s meals because why not, it wasn’t anything weird after all. They even shared a fruity dessert in the end (Takao’s offer). The calming music continued and Midorima let himself loosen up for the first time this week and let the worries of the game with Rakuzan escape. It was easy to relax like this. Takao and Midorima didn’t feel the need to fill time with words, which accommodated the latter’s secluded nature. Takao didn’t expect him to talk; he knew how to listen to Midorima’s silence. They were so used to each other, on the court and off it, that by now they had learned to speak through body language.

Takao paid the bill like he had promised, leaving a good tip. They left the restaurant (Midorima taking his tulip without a word), the hostess urging them to come again –and smiling profusely–as the two of them went out into the late evening. It had gotten colder since the two of them had slipped into the warm safety of the restaurant and Midorima wrapped his hoodie a bit tighter to his chest. Winter would soon settle on their city.

“Say, Shin-chan,” Takao spoke in an unusually quiet voice after a few quiet steps, gaze intently set on Midorima. “What did you think of tonight?”

_I_ _wish I could indulge like this, with you, more often,_ Midorima found himself thinking. Instead he said:

“It was…nice. Thank you for the food.” Somehow, without meaning to, it came out detached. Takao recoiled beside him, like he had been slapped across the face. Dark locks covering his face as he lowered his head to the ground, he barely whispered. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Is something the matter?” Midorima asked, sensing Takao’s unease but unable to decipher it.

“No, no, it’s nothing.” Takao chuckled bitterly, his body visibly stiffening, the giddiness from before gone.

Midorima stopped in the middle of their walk, pulling Takao with him. He didn’t want to leave this unattended. “It’s obviously not. Tell me.”

Takao kept his head down as he shook his arm off. It took him a while to speak, but Midorima was patient, giving him the space and time he needed. Takao was obviously bothered, shoulders stiff and lips pursed in a fine line. Finally, he took a deep breath and began:

“They said this was one of the more romantic places to go and –” Hiccup. “And that a lady came with flowers and that they had romantic music and I thought, I thought that it would be like a –a date. But you didn’t seem to care and I realized I’d just made a fool of myself and that you didn’t want that and just-” His eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing erratically, from the cold, from speaking so fast, or from both.

Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces in Midorima’s head were being picked up and put into place and Midorima wanted to punch himself for being so _dense_.

“Shin-chan,” Takao breathed out. “What am I to you?”

Time stopped as Midorima tried to assess the situation and think of the best way to respond. Takao had gone to such great lengths to make tonight special for him and Midorima hadn’t appreciated it. Knowing him, he’d probably spent an eternity planning where to go and the best time to go. Yet, he asked himself why trivial matters such as words were needed to project his feelings. He was sure Takao knew how Midorima felt, even if they hadn’t truly spoken about it before.

Ah, maybe that was the problem. They had never brought it up. Hell, if Takao had attempted to, Midorima had probably brushed it off because he wasn’t good with these things and he didn’t want to mess up their relationship. At the same time, he was aware (deep down) of his feelings and Takao’s feelings for him.

As Midorima was struggling with putting coherent thought into words, Takao was exercising the same patience Midorima had for him. His was clearly running out. Takao was searching Midorim’a face for any trace of emotion, resolve, of _something_. When he couldn’t find it, he turned around and started walking off. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He mumbled half-heartedly.

_Wait. Stop._

He had to do something. Now.

“Takao, wait –” Midorima felt himself reaching forward and putting his arms around Takao, stopping him mid-walk and squeezing him in a tight hug.

Midorima had no idea what he was doing, his heart pounded against his ribcage and his arms trembled around Takao, from the unfamiliarity of holding someone as intimately as this. Takao didn’t move an inch, but Midorima could feel his heart beating furiously, despite all the layers that separated their bare skin.

When Midorima finally got the courage to speak, he said. “I’m sorry I never show you how much you mean to me.”

Takao spun in their embrace, eyes wide in surprise.

“And tonight was… _lovely_.” Midorima brought a bandaged hand over Takao’s warm cheek.

“Shin-chan,” Takao’s eyes were glassy, illuminated by the street lamp they were under. He was speechless for once and beautiful, so painfully beautiful up this close that it made Midorima’s chest ache.

Midorima leaned down and placed a feathery kiss over Takao’s eyelids. Takao shivered at the sudden contact, his warm breath tickling Midorima’s neck, before bringing their lips together. It was a mutual gesture, slow and subtle. Takao tasted like the dessert they’d shared earlier and if Midorima hadn’t needed to breathe, he’d stayed like this instead of pulling away, panting.

The back of Midorima’s hand flew to his mouth, redness spreading all the way to his ears.

“I, uh, that is, um –” He tried to come up with some lame excuse for his actions, but for all his academic abilities, he couldn’t think of another word.

Takao just smiled like the dork he was. “Please don’t ruin this, Shin-chan.” He said, sensing that Midorima was about to say something utterly stupid.

Midorima just shrugged and just like that, they continued walking.

They walked shoulder to shoulder and at some point, Takao discreetly slid his hand in Midorima’s. Midorima’s heart rate sped up, but he didn’t protest. The streets were dark, save for the streetlamps every here and there and the warmth that seeped through Takao’s hand alleviated the iciness that bit through Midorima’s hoodie.

They reached Takao’s home and Midorima reluctantly let go of Takao’s hand. Midorima cast his gaze to the ground, now covered with a thin layer of frost, so he didn’t have to look directly at Takao as the boy took a few steps towards the house. “Goodnight, Takao.” He said with a tinge of doubt. Honestly, Midorima didn’t want to leave, even if he knew Takao would text him later, as per usual.

Takao opened the door, turned around with a mixed look of uncertainty and determination, apparently deciding on the latter, and marched back to where Midorima was standing in total confusion. Yanking Midorima’s scarf forward, Takao crushed their mouths together forcefully, into a kiss was much needier than the first, the gentleness replaced with forceful desire. Midorima moaned into it, sudden boldness surging through his veins, his hands finding their way around Takao’s waist. God, this felt so good, Midorima never wanted it to stop.

Takao moved away as suddenly as he had come, hurrying back to the door before Midorima could react.

He flashed his signature grin. “Goodnight, Shin-chan~” And with that, he slipped inside.

Midorima grunted, readjusting his scarf. He couldn’t help but bring it to his nose. It smelled like Takao’s cologne. Midorima started making his way home, thinking that the universe probably wouldn’t mind if he wore a lucky item twice or thrice.

When he reached his house, his phone buzzed in his bag. It was a text from Takao.

_That was a goodnight kiss, by the way :P_

“Idiot,” Midorima shoved the phone in his pocket and fiddled with his keys, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.


End file.
